


Young, Wild & Filthy Rich

by beautifuldreamer (missmanderley)



Category: Emma Approved, Lizzie Bennet Diaries, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV, Persuasion - Jane Austen, The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmanderley/pseuds/beautifuldreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Will Darcy decided to help his friend Alex Knightley with his latest business venture, he didn't realize that it would lead to a reunion of sorts with his buddies from Harvard. </p><p>A collection of short drabbles centered upon the lives of fictional millionaires (and otherwise dashing heroes) William Darcy, Alex Knightley, E.D. Rochester, John Thornton, and Capt. Wentworth.</p><p>More information at http://thebeautiful-dreamer.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Constant State of Evolution

## A Constant State of Evolution

> _Money, which represents the prose of life, and which is hardly spoken of in parlours without an apology, is, in its effects and laws, as beautiful as roses. (Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1844)_

William Darcy looked like a wreck, such a sight that was so uncommon he could feel the bemused eyes of his executive staff lingering on the back of his nape as he walked out of the boardroom. It was almost 6pm, the end of the a day endlessly filled with acquisitions and mergers, meetings and proposals… he loosened his tie as he poured himself a drink, paced methodically across the span of his spacious office before finally sitting, his feet propped on folders that Mrs. Reynolds left for him to sign earlier.

His thoughts lingered towards a certain redhead – Lizzie Bennet. Even after seven months, it was him who was still in disbelief whenever he calls her his girlfriend.

Whenever this would come up in their conversations, Lizzie would always laugh at him in such a teasing manner, she would say “Well for two people who have been dating for months, we still certainly act like idiots don’t we?”

Even though her production studio, Longbourn Arts was just a few buildings away from Pemberley Digital, it was the exhausting endless monotone of days like today that simply makes him miss her.

_Ding_  A text notification pops up on his iPhone –

> _Will, you know I adore Emma and Alex… but do you think he knows just how much he’s gotten famous on Youtube? Here, watch the video for yourself._

> _Barely two minutes, and its gone viral. Everyone at Longbourn is thrilled at the launch of such a promising collaboration! Anyways, see you at dinner in a couple of hours. Love you, Lizzie._

Darcy curiously opens the link, venturing out into Youtube to watch another vlogger introduce herself in her first video for the first time in seven months.

–

Alex Knightley caught himself stuck halfway through this quarter’s revenue reports for Highbury Partners Lifestyle after Emma gloriously pushed him off frame as she filmed her documentary in her office. Only Emma would be so enthusiastically driven so early in the morning. After her morning latte has carefully infused itself in her system there was no stopping the hurricane that is Emma Woodhouse.

This morning went about in its almost usual fashion in the office –

At precisely 8:28AM, Emma walks in full confidence as she greeted their modestly small staff with overflowing glee…

“Hello, my lovely staff! Oh, and good morning to you too, Mr. Grumpypants!”

Mrs. Martin, the office manager greets her back, and deftly a sensible compliment as she briefed Emma on her schedule. Gina who was in charge of maintaining the website gingerly smiled back, as she continued to edit through yesterday’s photoshoot.

It was at this point as she saunters past Alex’s office, never missing a beat as Alex’s morning scowl begin to manifest on his face.

“Emma, we need to talk. About interviewing these applicants for the position as your personal assistant? You can’t keep putting these off, and I am not going to keep asking Mrs. Martin to answer your calls.”

“Alex! You know me, busy busy busy! Did you forget that today marks the start of our partnership with Pemberley Digital? It’s just exciting, isn’t it?,” she said with her trademark wink.

Alex tried to protest, but he was too late. Emma has already whisked herself off to her vibrantly colored office before he could even manage to get a word in. To the uninitiated, to the outsider who hasn’t had the experience of spending more than enough time with Emma would see her as self centered, possibly vapid rich socialite but not Alex Knightley.

As much as it frustrated Alex to no end at how she consistently ignores the “boring important business stuff,” he could not fault her for being the creative force behind their fledgling business venture. When Emma has set her eyes on a project, she always manages to find the most imaginative ways to accomplish it to a success – her soon to be 20for 20streak as she calls it. Alex Knightley was always left to be the solid (and often the more rational) ground below her endless machinations. They are after all, old friends first and business partners second.

–

“Grace, I really don’t mind flying commercial. No, I would rather not use the private jet. Remember this is my stealth mission to get away? Don’t worry, you will be able to reach me anytime.”

E.D. Rochester could still remember when he was much younger, when the responsibilities of upholding a large company such as Thornfield Aluminum was not heavy upon his shoulders. He could remember when his father, the much more revered Edward Rochester Sr. worked long hours, and didn’t even give a rat’s ass about where E.D. decided to spend his week. With the immense money that his father would allot as his allowance, he would spend hours upon end on sudden unplanned trips to Caracas, or to Bali. He would coax Blanche and Warren to accompany him on a weekend trip to Vegas… a series of wild nights, most of which he could not even recall the next morning. He sought to live fast, and party even harder.

It would be too ironic to say that it was only because he was young but it was that one night in the city of sin that changed his entire life.

_Six years earlier…_

“Eddie, you need to listen to me… You need to wake up right now!” He thought he could hear Blanche’s voice screaming in full volume, amidst oddly enough a child crying. The noise was jarring, disorienting him as he struggled to open his eyes.

“Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you, Blanche! Its goddamn early in the morning!” Ice cold water stinged his face into partially make sense of his surroundings.

He could vaguely remember meeting a seductively exotic brunette at some bar last night, well after his eight round of drinks. The brunette was attractive enough, and he could slightly remember her offering to go back to her place for “another round.” Flashing images of devouring each other, clothes torn aside muddled his mind.

“We need to take him to a hospital, Warren.” Blanche sounded sensible and in control.

He felt himself being lifted to his feet, his gait unsteady as Warren steered him towards the front door. He could still hear a child sobbing in the background, and somewhere to his left he could somewhat make out Blanche following them. She was carrying what looks like a small girl whose head was buried on to Blanche’s chest.

Rochester looked back into the dark empty apartment in a haze.

The brunette was dead.

–

> _Flight coming in at 8pm. Are the boys free tonight? -E.D._

Derick Wentworth opened his messages as he walked over to the conference room to meet with the firm’s new clientele. His VP of Operations, James Benwick was already there… and was already going off a comprehensive presentation on their firm’s services.

“Benwick, you got this right? I’m going to take the afternoon off.”

He motioned to his secretary, Loraine to rearrange his afternoon schedule as he slips on his tailored suit jacket. The lamborghini would have to do, its keys stowed his pocket. He’ll have to drive himself to Pemberley Digital’s Los Angeles office.


	2. Variations in Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Alex attend an investors meeting in Los Angeles, and meets with their college friend Derick Wentworth over coffee. Rochester sends an important tweet. John Thornton recalls how he met a certain feisty Southern belle.

## Vari­a­tions in Nos­tal­gia

> _There’s the sto­ry, then there’s the re­al sto­ry, then there’s the sto­ry of how the sto­ry came to be told. Then there’s what you leave out of the sto­ry. Which is part of the sto­ry too. (Mar­garet At­wood, Mad­dAd­dam 2013)_

He was nev­er in dan­ger of be­ing dam­aged, the af­ter­math of meet­ing Mar­garet Hale might have bruised his ego but he wasn’t gonna let some spoiled South­ern belle ques­tion his man­hood. Their chance en­counter when she at­tend­ed one of the fundrais­ing events that his char­i­ta­ble firm or­ga­nized was short, awk­ward­ly fleet­ing, and right­ly so. John Thorn­ton has been called many things, and when Ms. Hale in­sin­u­at­ed that he must be the dev­il in­car­nate as she went on about work­ers rights in in­dus­tri­al fac­to­ries… he was on­ly amused and not all per­turbed.

“Mr. Thorn­ton, I sup­posed you were not aware at the hor­rid con­di­tions that your fac­to­ry work­ers have to suf­fer through! Frankly, I am quite sur­prised that you haven’t had a union strike in your hands!” Her dis­tinct­ly up­per class twang ev­i­dent in her sharp re­marks. First im­pres­sions are def­i­nite­ly not re­li­able.

What Ms. Hale lacked in ver­bal fil­ters she made up for in bold in­sights, she seemed to rebel against sim­ply be­ing a pret­ty face and ea­ger to prove that she al­so had the brains.

“Ms. Hale, may I in­vite you to a tour of our fa­cil­i­ties at Goose Is­land? Give me chance to prove to you that treat ev­ery em­ploy­ee at com­pa­ny like the fam­i­ly that they are. As you can see, I am in the busi­ness of trans­form­ing lives.” He replied dip­lo­mat­i­cal­ly calm and con­cise as he stared the in­cor­ri­gi­ble Mar­garet Hale in the eye.

“I might just take you up on that of­fer, Mr. Thorn­ton. I’ll have my as­sis­tant set up ar­range­ments with your sec­re­tary.”

He aimed to im­pressed her with his ac­com­plish­ments in the avi­a­tion in­dus­try – his con­tri­bu­tions to the sur­round­ing com­mu­ni­ties in Chi­ca­go, the count­less schol­ar­ships they have giv­en to de­serv­ing col­lege stu­dents through­out the na­tion, the in­no­va­tive pro­cess­ing he pi­o­neered in his fac­to­ries to pro­duce less emis­sions dur­ing the pro­duc­tion se­ries amongst oth­er things. At the very least, he swore to make her re­mem­ber the name John Thorn­ton.

–

> _@lizzieben­net:_ Go­ing to be in Los An­ge­les for a cou­ple of days to meet with the boys. You don’t mind, do you?  
>  _@wm­dar­cy:_ Go and en­joy your time with the boys! Hav­ing a girls night with @ggdar­cy since she just got back from San­di­ton. See you next week.

–

“Har­ri­et, could you re­mind Em­ma that I will be at that in­vestors’ meet­ing in Los An­ge­les for a few days?” Alex quick­ly men­tions to Em­ma’s PA be­fore he rush­es off to catch his flight.

“Con­sid­er it done, Mr. Knight­ley! Have a safe trip?” Har­ri­et awk­ward­ly replied as she wrote Alex’s mes­sage on a Post-it.

–

_Four hours ear­li­er_

Rochester sat back against his seat, as he swirled the re­main­ing gin in his glass. He didn’t mind the dron­ing noise out­side the air­port bar as trav­el­ers go about to their des­ti­na­tions. His dear friend, the smooth sting of hard liquor drowned out all but his own thoughts as he scrolled down his emails on his iPhone.

Maybe it was the gin, but the rea­son be­hind his hasty es­cape to Los An­ge­les kept lin­ger­ing in his mind. No, he wasn’t slammed yet… its is def­i­nite­ly far too ear­ly for that… if at all. Hap­haz­ard­ly, he be­gan to type out a tweet –

         “ _@eyre­quotes_  We’re go­ing to have to get you a cal­en­dar when you come home. Maybe a les­son on weeks vs. months.”

Just like that, his elec­tron­ic mis­sive to a par­tic­u­lar Jane Eyre trav­eled in su­per speed across the air. He missed her and that feel­ing of as­sur­an­ce that he al­ways seem to get when they are deep in their con­ver­sa­tions, their thought­ful chats late at night back at the house. With her, he doesn’t feel like he’s been sen­tenced to be damned, his ap­a­thy tem­po­rar­ily beat­en back. When he can play­ful­ly ban­ter with her he was hope­ful for the fu­ture ahead.

The over­head PA sys­tem in­ter­rupt­ed him –

_Flight CN250, bound for Los An­ge­les. Now board­ing at Gate 7. Pas­sen­gers please pro­ceed af­ter check­ing in._

Maybe it re­al­ly was just the gin. It gave him, he sup­posed.. some po­tent liq­uid courage.

–

Mid af­ter­noon in the heart of Down­town LA was the epit­o­me of cars screech­ing in the back­ground amidst the traf­fic. The air was thick and hu­mid, and the city smog stayed un­for­giv­ing. It was quite un­usu­al to see a quaint lit­tle cafe sur­round­ed by mas­sive met­al tow­ers in this con­crete jun­gle, but it was equal­ly un­usu­al to see a be­spec­ta­cled young man in a pol­ished suit and tie wait­ing out­side said cafe. He looked strange­ly out of place yet in­her­ent­ly incog­ni­to.

If hadn’t been for the sud­den ar­rival of an­oth­er young man, ca­su­al­ly dressed in cream col­ored khakis and a mint green long sleeved shirt, not much at­ten­tion would have been paid. Lit­tle did the un­sus­pect­ing passer­by know that these two young men are amongst Forbes 100un­der 30.

“I’m think­ing of propos­ing…” William Dar­cy men­tions as he takes a sip from his cafe breve. The an­tic­i­pa­tion of Lizzie’s cov­et­ed “yes” bal­anced the bit­ter­ness of his cof­fee choice.

“Tak­ing the leap fi­nal­ly, huh? That’s great, but is there any off chance that Lizzie would not men­tion this to Em­ma? Be­cause if Em­ma gets a wind of this, she will in­sist on plan­ning your wed­ding… and when that hap­pens, I can’t prom­ise that I can help you.” Alex Knight­ley jest­ed as he sin­cere­ly con­grat­u­lat­ed his col­lege friend on his de­ci­sion to set­tle down with the love of his life. He was al­ready half way through their con­ver­sa­tion, and half way through his soy lat­te… a drink he end­ed up en­joy­ing af­ter Em­ma in­sist­ed on him try­ing last week.

_About eight months ago_

Knight­ley al­most didn’t rec­og­nize Dar­cy when they walked in­to a con­fer­ence meet­ing at Pem­ber­ley Dig­i­tal eight months ago. The metic­u­lous busi­ness acu­men, the brash clipped man­ner of con­duct­ing ac­qui­si­tions, the un­re­lent­ing in­no­va­tive brain was still there, but strange­ly enough he seems much more a hu­man than his usu­al ro­botic self. He has since then met the cause of such change, Lizzie Ben­net who as Alex would lat­er dis­cov­er se­cured the funds for her start­up be­cause of her pop­u­lar vlogs on Youtube.

A cou­ple of months af­ter, Lizzie came along a busi­ness din­ner and found her­self privy to the hy­per­ness that is Em­ma Wood­house. Alex could still re­mem­ber how Lizzie tried to sub­tly whis­per to Dar­cy –

“Doesn’t she just re­mind you of Gi­gi?”

Em­ma of course over­heard and said –

“Lizzie! That would be in­cred­i­bly kind of you, but trust me… to be com­pared to the Geor­giana Dar­cy?” Em­ma did her trade­mark side wink and smiled.

“I’m kid­ding, Lizzie! Gi­gi is one of my dear­est friends! We’ve been pret­ty much best friends since we were lit­tle girls, va­ca­tion­ing with our fam­i­lies in the Hamp­tons! Alex and Will have al­ways been the med­dling big broth­ers that they are, but me and Gi­gi… thick as thieves!”

“More like an­noy­ing lit­tle brats, right Dar­cy?” Alex added, as he broke away from the con­ver­sa­tion he was hav­ing with Dar­cy about stock op­tions.

And just like that, Em­ma Wood­house be­came friends with Lizzie Ben­net.

_Present day_

“Did Ed­die con­tact you guys? Ap­par­ent­ly the bas­tard’s fly­ing down from Van­cou­ver tonight.” De­r­ick Went­worth was not a fan of cof­fee, when he would rather have a pint in­stead. But he knew he was with friends who en­joyed a slow af­ter­noon of caf­feine.

“Yeah he emailed me yes­ter­day out of the blue, ask­ing if I was around the city… co­in­ci­den­tal­ly me and Dar­cy had an in­vestors meet­ing here in Los An­ge­les, so there.” Alex was prob­a­bly clos­est to Ed­die back in their years at Har­vard, and was of­ten the des­ig­nat­ed driv­er on the many in­stances when he got drunk with De­r­ick and John. These three were al­ways the wild par­ty­go­ers…

“The guy is lucky he still has his liv­er in­tact. I might have had my drunk­en stu­pors back in col­lege, but Ed­die… some­times you get the im­pres­sion that he nev­er grew out of it. Come to think of it, wasn’t it Dar­cy here who prac­ti­cal­ly lived in the bars with him… that was un­til the car ac­ci­dent…”

“Oh sor­ry man, I didn’t mean to bring that up…” De­r­ick caught him­self as he men­tioned the one thing that was guar­an­teed to piss off his sto­ic friend.

“That’s al­right, I’ve ac­tu­al­ly come to terms with my par­ents’ death.” William Dar­cy replied with­out elab­o­rat­ing.

It was Alex who sim­ply ex­plained “Well De­r­ick, you should just prob­a­bly meet Lizzie some­day. The wom­an who changed Dar­cy’s life and his fu­ture fi­ancee.”

De­r­ick Went­worth reached over and punched Dar­cy in the arm, in such a way that on­ly old friends could ev­er do to ex­press their con­grat­u­la­tions. It was William Dar­cy af­ter all who found him al­most cata­ton­ic that night back in their se­nior year in col­lege, hav­ing drunk his weight in Heineken in ef­forts to for­get. Dar­cy lugged him to the back of his car and drove him to the emer­gen­cy room, and he was the first per­son to find out what drove him to drink him­self to obliv­ion in the first place.

Four months af­ter he got his stom­ach pumped at Mount Auburn, he en­list­ed with the Unit­ed States Navy.

He had hoped it would help him for­get her… Anne El­liot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this chapter! We finally meet John Thornton and find out Darcy's plan to propose... Also a bit of a hint in the end at what made Derick Wentworth enlist in the Navy (next chapter will probably reveal what his firm really does!)
> 
> Till then, see you guys!


	3. The Conversion of Nervous Force Into Phrases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex drives back from rock climbing at Joshua Tree, a trip he made solely to distract himself from the fight he had with Emma earlier at the office. Derick and John meet up in New York. Rochester receives an odd email from Darcy.

## The Conversion of Nervous Force Into Phrases

> I am content to sympathize with common mortals… their hearts - like ours - must endure the load of gifts from heaven: the curse of facts and the blessing of illusions, the bitterness of our wisdom and the deceptive consolation of our folly. (Joseph Conrad, Almayer’s Folly 1895)

Alex Knightley could not remember the last Thanksgiving he’s spent alone. Like it has always been for as long as he could remember, much of the holiday dinners were spent at the Woodhouses’ beachfront property in Malibu. His parents always seem as if they were somewhere on the opposite side of the globe, like that time when his father was facilitating a merger with an influential petroleum conglomerate in Dubai while his mother led a team of doctors in a medical mission in Kenya. In what started as a tradition when he was sixteen when he was much too old to be left with nannies that Mr. Woodhouse first invited him to their family gatherings.

_November 1999_

“But Alex, I’m so bored! Why couldn’t we have spent the holidays in Whistler like Gigi and Will?” Emma sat petulantly on the warm sand, the miniscule bits of worn out glass spread amongst the pink ruffles of her bathing suit.

Alex was walking back from the water, his back turned against the waves that came crashing against the rocky terrain along the coast. He rolled his eyes in defeat as he sat down beside Emma on their makeshift tent. He was all too familiar with the childish tantrums that she tend to have when she didn’t get her way. Emma might be twelve but when she chooses to use her puppy dog eyes for evil, there was nothing stopping her.

“Would you rather be freezing in the snow? Rather than enjoying the amazing 75degree weather here in Malibu?”

“Well it was terribly boring when we got snowed in at the Swiss Alps last Christmas, even when Daddy kept trying to challenge you to a game of backgammon!”

“You know how it is, I couldn’t say no to the old man.” Mr. Woodhouse had to take two doses of Xanax after the news reported that the blizzard was so bad that all flights out have been cancelled. It was only a sporting game of backgammon that could calm him down.

“Daddy was such a nervous wreck…” Emma let out a laugh followed by a tired yawn. She tilted her head against Alex’s shoulder as she folded her knees close to her chest.

If there was one thing that Alex loved about living in Southern California, it was the gorgeously breathtaking orange hues of the sunsets. Something about it was just familiar, and comforting.

“I think my favorite color would be orange, a nice pastel orange…” she mumbled as she slowly doozed off.

“Wasn’t it purple last week, eggplant purple?”

“Hey Alex, Happy Thanksgiving…”  
“Happy Thanksgiving, Emma…” his voice trailed off.

Alex slipped off the beach towel that served as their tent’s roof and wrapped Emma as carefully as he could. As he carried her small frame in his arms towards the Woodhouses’ back porch, he couldn’t help but feel like he was coming home.

_Present day_

The skies were painted in bright yellows and oranges, blending like watercolors with the evening purples and blues as the night began to envelope the day.

It was such sight that Alex was privy to as he drove back into the city from Joshua Tree. Somehow he wasn’t as upset as he was a few hours earlier, and as much as his more rational side would caution him… he felt as if subconsciously he has already forgiven Emma’s latest bout of foolishness. He was tempted to respond to Mr. Woodhouse’s earlier text message –

> Emma tells me you are skipping on Thanksgiving dinner tonight to go rock climbing. While I do not approve of such thrill seeking behavior, I feel like I must warn you to make sure all of your climbing gear are in perfect condition. Safety first, son. (Oh and you are missing out on the scrumptious red velvet cupcakes that Annie sent over!)

He had another hour drive to mull things over. Despite such obviously close proximity to Los Angeles, never has he felt so far away from the city he calls home.

-

Dim lights overhead flicker amongst the concaves of highballs and cocktails across the bar. It was quiet aside from the methodical movements of the bartender, and the few patrons that had been enjoying some chardonnay at the far corner of the place. This was probably the most secluded bar in New York.

“John! Over here…” Derick Wentworth waved over his friend who was shaking off the snow from his tailored coat. He motioned at the bar for another pint of Schorschbock 57.

“So Mr. Aviation Hotshot… glad you had time off your hectic schedule to meet up with an old friend…”

“C’mon Freddie, give me a break. You know I would have flown over to LA and hung out with you and the boys last week if I hadn’t had to put out some fires over at the Chicago office so to speak…It’s been a fucking shithole.” John Thornton looks exasperated as he took a swig from his glass. The acrid sting of the Schorschbock 57crawled down his throat like barbed wire. He’s been sober for almost seven months now, but with the pressures of design deadlines this month he felt like he needed an alcoholic drink.

“Alright… you better clear out some time off your calendar though…”

“Alex emailed me yesterday about the news. William Darcy’s getting married? What happened to our friend, the socially awkward robot who couldn’t even be bothered to go out on a date?”

“Well turns out our friend has been changed by a feisty young redhead named Lizzie Bennet. Apparently, she tore him down on this series of video blogs that she had over YouTube…” Derick was skeptical about this whole marriage deal, not after that fuck up years ago, but even he couldn’t deny the fact that the William Darcy he briefly met with a couple of weeks ago was different – Darcy was happy. And as much he doesn’t want to admit, his goddamn life would be a lot better if only he was happy.

“Fiesty huh? Reminds me of this woman I met at my company’s charity gala a few weeks ago… Margaret Hale.” Her name lingered in his mouth longer than he expected, the effects of the strong german ale already taking effect.

“Margaret Hale? Isn’t she that investigative journalist who won a Pulitzer for her piece on industrial bio terrorism for the New York Times? The guys over at Wall Street calls her the ”Southern Bitch.“ Man, if she starts harassing you, let me know and I can send over some of my guys from the firm to coordinate with your head of security.”

John Thornton appreciated his friend’s concern, but he can deal with Ms. Hale himself. He is going to make sure that the so called Southern Bitch will be charmed by his kindness, as he takes in the last few sips of his beer.

–

E.D. Rochester could feel his jaw getting sore by the minute, maybe it was due to the fact that he has been smiling excessively for the past few days since that one night during a downpour in Vancouver. All too unfamiliar of a sensation to a man whose favorite pastime is brooding while downing some scotch.

It was this morning that he caught himself smiling at Adele as she bounced her way down the stairs. Adele must have noticed his infectious grin and had muttered back something in French. He heard Jane’s beautiful voice answering her flawlessly, her hand briefly touching his as she walked by to usher Adele through the front door. It felt like a sudden surge of electricity that transversed along his arm.

He was really a lucky bastard to even be loved by this incredible woman who never seems to take any of his bullshit. Rochester just wanted to hold Jane in his arms, and feel as if everything in the world is right and safe. It would be almost a hour before Jane gets back from dropping Adele off at her private academy, and it would be an hour too long before he gets to see her again.

Before his manhood suffers any more mishap by shamelessly missing Jane for the mere hour that she has gone to the city, Rochester resolved himself towards the loft with a mug full of chocolate mint tea, and powered on his Mac Book. Half of the twenty emails he had unopened were from Grace Poole, who was supposed to be enjoying her vacation in Dusseldorf after the Aluminum Congress instead of inundating him with reminder emails about the board meeting this week.

He read the first email that pinged on his account –

> TO: edrochester@thornfieldexp.com  
> FROM: wmdarcy@pemberleydigital.com  
> SUBJECT: Congratulations?  
> Eddie,  
> I believe some congratulations are in order… as in congratulations on your recent engagement. Ms. Eyre seems to be a smart sensible young lady.  
> Darcy

It took Rochester a few minutes and a second glance at William Darcy’s email to process its contents before he hit reply.

> TO: wmdarcy@pemberleydigital.com  
> FROM: edrochester@thornfieldexp.com  
> SUBJECT: Thank you?  
> It’s kind of creepy at how you manage to know this information, especially I haven’t really told anyone the news.

A few seconds later, a reply email from Darcy filtered through his inbox –

> TO: edrochester@thornfieldexp.com  
> FROM: wmdarcy@pemberleydigital.com  
> SUBJECT: Youtube  
> My fiancee, Lizzie Bennet showed me Ms. Eyre’s video blogs on Youtube… I believe it was called The Autobiography of Jane Eyre? Lizzie was entirely happy as she said this videoblogger was inspired by her own video blogs last year. Anyways, it happened that I watched #45… and can I just say… I thought I was pretty bad at the big romantic gestures, but man… you were a wreck. What was that tree picture anyways? What happened to the self proclaimed Mr. “Smooth Moves” Rochester back in college?

Rochester is in disbelief that his friend, who was affectionately called an agoraphobic lobster back when they were in Harvard was teasing him, using corporate emails nonetheless.

> TO: wmdarcy@pemberleydigital.com  
> FROM: edrochester@thornfieldexp.com  
> SUBJECT: Still Mr. Smooth Moves  
> Darcy,  
> Don’t be a dick, and don’t even try to send a link to that video to the boys, especially Derick. I still have the video file of us lipsyncing and dancing to Backstreet Boys from 2002… I will use it as blackmail if I need to.  
> That was a certificate for a seven acre grove of oak trees that I bought as a gift to her, not my finest moment but she loved it.  
> Eddie

He quickly closed his laptop shut as he heard Jane’s car pull up into the driveway. He would admit that the execution was a bit of a mess, but there was no denying that the iridescent woman walking towards him with a smile, is his and his alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Based upon modern adaptations such as The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Autobiography of Jane Eyre, and Emma Approved. Hopefully you guys will like how I've modernized John Thornton from N&S and Capt. Wentworth from Persuasion... I've always wondered how modern adaptations of those works would be like, and I figured this fanfic would be my chance ^^
> 
> Much love to everyone reading!


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